“The Most Beautiful Boy in the World'' showcases an inherent element of nonfiction storytelling that too many documentarians end up disguising in the final work—the idea that the questions we initially set out to answer are not always the ones that are most intriguing later on.

“The Little Things” is a classic old blood/new blood story coursing through clogged narrative arteries, enlisting Denzel Washington as venerable ex-investigator Joe Deacon and a robotic Rami Malek the down-to-business young cop who has been successful up to this point in keeping the ugliness of the occupation out of his cozy home life. Joe hasn’t been as lucky; he’s psychologically worn down by a series of past slayings, the culprit of which remains free. But something else about that history keeps peeling the scab open afresh, and as much as “The Little Things” is about us watching Joe following a killer’s breadcrumb trail, it also fashions us into detectives trying to piece together his past.

You’d be hard-pressed to deny that Regina King knows a thing or two about captivating her audience. Having spent the last three decades shaping an acting career on screens big and small – her consistency capped off by collecting an Oscar, a Golden Globe and two Emmys since 2018 – the Los Angeles native now embarks on a new career branch that’s looking as sturdy as any other with her electrifying feature directorial debut, “One Night in Miami,” an adaptation of Kemp Powers’s stage play about Black resilience and responsibility (he returns to adapt his own story for the screen).

If the history explored in Sam Pollard’s relatively straightforward yet revelatory “MLK/FBI” were in danger of emanating a certain obviousness about the United States’s infrastructural hypocrisies pertaining to its treatment of Black citizens, recent events render those concerns moot. Having premiered at September festivals with images from a summer of protest still fresh in viewers’ minds but the thought of a deadly siege at the nation’s governmental heart too dystopian for most to consider, this documentary takes on renewed significance as it prepares to wide-release on Friday—just nine days after a group of largely pro-Trump radicals stormed the U.S. Capitol, looting souvenirs, kicking back at political leaders’ desks and asserting fiery reality for anyone still denying that America can afford to delay its reckonings.

Tell someone that the documentary they’re about to watch is an education on the experiences of those diagnosed with autism, and their expectation may be a movie of convention—of clearly defined talking head subjects and a rigid structure that more effectively snoozes rather than informs.

Not so in the case of director Jerry Rothwell’s captivating and occasionally cosmic new effort “The Reason I Jump.”

In the playfully rebellious new movie “I Blame Society,” the young filmmaker Gillian Wallace Horvat steps in front of her camera to give one of the most unpredictably self-aware performances since, well...whatever it is the last thing Nicolas Cage did. Whether that makes it a great performance is a different question. But if one barometer of an actor’s effectiveness is how confidently they skate right up to the edge of incredulity without slipping over, then the answer is leaning towards the affirmative.